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Sparx, v. 1, issue 6, February 1948
Page 16
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THE COLD WAR (CONT) escape? Neiland grinned sardonically in the darkness. Each of them probably would have troed it if they'd dared, he thought. Maybe I would have, if I had been brooding about things the way Jackson did. The ship was slowing. "Just a little more," said Neiland, not realizing that he was speaking aloud. Some one was cursing monotonously in a low tone. Then all motion stopped. For a timeless second the spark that was the ship hovered motionless, almost in the zenith. Then, slowly, imperceptibly at first, it began to drift back. "No good," somebody muttered. "Used up all the fuel. Hasn't got any left to break his fall. Poor guy." Neiland stared, hypnotized, at the ship. It was dropping faster...faster... It was three hours before the wreckage cooled enough to allow a search. The first streamers of dawn were cold in the sky when they were through. All that was left of Jackson was an almost unrecognizable mass of charred flesh and an old fashioned good luck charm. It hadn't been good enough. * * * "Going to work early?" asked Neiland's wife. "They've doubled the shifts," he answered briefly. "The pocket's about done for. Everybody's working hard. But it won't be for long" He scowled at the wall of the hut as he adjusted his parka. No, it wouldn't be for long. Winter was still far in the future; perihelion was almost a year away. He knew that no one would be alive on the asteroid when it came. "And some fools thought the atomic bomb was the ultimate weapon!" he said, to nobody in particular. "Why, what is?" asked his wife. "Sociology, of course. Nobody knows how deadly a weapon the social sciences can be. We've had a glimpse." He opened the door and braced himself against the blast of icy air. "What good is a theoretical knowledge of the principles of an atomic bomb, if you haven't got the resources to build it?" Laughing at the concept, he went out, closing the door behind him. Somewhere, he thought, somewhere there must be a God, who sits, and sees, and records. A God that will make up for the cold and the darkness; for the childlessness; for Jackson; for the reality of the failure that becomes clearer every day. This couldn't really be happening; freedom couldn't be stifled like this. Blessed be those that are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. But he shivered as he thought it. A raw wind was blowing, and snow was beginning to drift down from the grey sky. It was cold...cold... THE END 16
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THE COLD WAR (CONT) escape? Neiland grinned sardonically in the darkness. Each of them probably would have troed it if they'd dared, he thought. Maybe I would have, if I had been brooding about things the way Jackson did. The ship was slowing. "Just a little more," said Neiland, not realizing that he was speaking aloud. Some one was cursing monotonously in a low tone. Then all motion stopped. For a timeless second the spark that was the ship hovered motionless, almost in the zenith. Then, slowly, imperceptibly at first, it began to drift back. "No good," somebody muttered. "Used up all the fuel. Hasn't got any left to break his fall. Poor guy." Neiland stared, hypnotized, at the ship. It was dropping faster...faster... It was three hours before the wreckage cooled enough to allow a search. The first streamers of dawn were cold in the sky when they were through. All that was left of Jackson was an almost unrecognizable mass of charred flesh and an old fashioned good luck charm. It hadn't been good enough. * * * "Going to work early?" asked Neiland's wife. "They've doubled the shifts," he answered briefly. "The pocket's about done for. Everybody's working hard. But it won't be for long" He scowled at the wall of the hut as he adjusted his parka. No, it wouldn't be for long. Winter was still far in the future; perihelion was almost a year away. He knew that no one would be alive on the asteroid when it came. "And some fools thought the atomic bomb was the ultimate weapon!" he said, to nobody in particular. "Why, what is?" asked his wife. "Sociology, of course. Nobody knows how deadly a weapon the social sciences can be. We've had a glimpse." He opened the door and braced himself against the blast of icy air. "What good is a theoretical knowledge of the principles of an atomic bomb, if you haven't got the resources to build it?" Laughing at the concept, he went out, closing the door behind him. Somewhere, he thought, somewhere there must be a God, who sits, and sees, and records. A God that will make up for the cold and the darkness; for the childlessness; for Jackson; for the reality of the failure that becomes clearer every day. This couldn't really be happening; freedom couldn't be stifled like this. Blessed be those that are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. But he shivered as he thought it. A raw wind was blowing, and snow was beginning to drift down from the grey sky. It was cold...cold... THE END 16
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